Draco Malfoy and the Year After
by draugiks
Summary: A lot can happen in nineteen years. While Harry Potter celebrates the defeat of Lord Voldemort, Draco Malfoy faces a new problem: surviving in a society he turned against. This is the sequel, Draco's side of the story on what happened the year after.


Chapter 1: Malfoy and Nott (Deleted Scene)

Draco Malfoy was in a hurry.

He grabbed two ends at the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, pausing, before tossing it into a small pile of clothes and miscellaneous rubbish at his feet. He surveyed the pile, primarily dominated by blue and gray, instead of his usual green, dark green, and darker green. There was a copy of today's Daily Prophet poking out of the corner. He only saw the date written on the parchment because the rest of it was buried underneath the shirt he threw on top of it. It was the last day of July. Perhaps it was time to break out his clothes for August.

Draco must have bought and thrown out at least a billion things in his lifetime, perhaps half were clothes, and most of which were practically brand new with only the single flaw of getting touched by human hands, the one time, to take it from the clothing shop to his home. However, looking back at this filthy pile of clothes that he had only worn -very well worn- once or twice, he was a bit ashamed to admit it: he was a little sorry to see it go.

The bell rang for him, again.

The way the bell works in the Malfoy Manor is that it would sound for the listener inside the gate, only if it was intended for him or her. So his mother and father could both be in the same room, and if the visitor only intended to see his mother, then his father would never hear the doorbell.

Draco often wondered how that worked, considering that the doorbell was an inanimate object and inanimate objects should not be able to read minds. Should he have been practicing his Occlumency on the doorbell? It seemed to him like a major security risk for it to gauge, just by touch, who the visitor desired to see. Next time, he decided, he would make sure to empty his mind and surface thoughts at least to test its magical ability.

There was also the issue of levels of intent. As much as he tried not to think about it, only a complete nincompoop would fail to notice that quite a number of men found his mother attractive. Over the years, Draco spied, from his window, a lot of businessmen dropping by with the surface intent to discuss money with his father, whereas the deeper true intent was to view his mother in her nightgown. The doorbell always chose one or both of them arbitrarily with no order or priority.

The doorbell rang for him again. Perhaps Draco could use Legilimency to ask it why it chose to summon a certain person when the visitor clearly had mixed intentions. But then he'd be gambling on the off-chance that it was aware of what it was doing... and if it was aware, that it would also have an explanation... and that if it had an explanation, it would be willing and able to share.

Draco shook his head as he quickly picked up his wand from his nightstand. That nightstand was made of solid emerald. Everything in his room was equally expensive, surpassing the limit of becoming illegally so. From the extinct breed of Veela feathers that made up the down from his pillows, to the panda fur and dinosaur bones that adorned his favorite chair, the interior designer was clearly psychopathic. One day, he seriously expected to see lampshades made of skinned human babies, imported from Greenland. Spare no expense.

The black and white rug expanded in a maze-like pattern, from the center of his perfectly square room, to exactly a meter from the edges. Living in this room had been like living in a giant cube, magically enchanted at the edges to appear like a perfect circle. Thanks to the house-elves, the room was in an infinite state of spotlessness... with the exception of the one pile of garbage Draco just now created. He had always been a relatively neat person, but even he fantasized about making a mess so preposterous that even the servants and house-elves couldn't clean it up.

Now, seeing the pathetically small pile before him, he realized that it was a whole new project for another day.

Watching himself in the mirror across the room, Draco lit the pile of clothes on fire without a sound. The pile ignited from its very center and the flames engulfed the pile and only the contents within it. He very, very good with containing his fires, especially after... well. From the mirror, Draco watched the flames rise as high as the height of his chest. There was _that scar_ again, running from his shoulder across his chest to his opposite hip, like a sash permanently tattooed into his skin. The popular kid in school had given it to him about two years ago.

Draco hated that scar.

What was he doing, questioning the stupid doorbell? Hadn't he learned from Day 1 of his life that nothing was ever supposed to make sense? Even his own scar was bizarre. Like all scars, Draco's scar had magical powers as well. It was how magic compensates; gain a weakness, gain a strength. If he was blinded instead, he would have lost the ability to see what's in front of him and perhaps gain the power to see what's ahead of him. That is... the future. That's why there were so many blind prophets. Throughout history, there had been many stories about wizards permanently blinding themselves on purpose in order to gain the ability to see into the future. Their endeavors didn't work, and Draco didn't remember why. Honestly, he only felt embarrassment for the constant reminder that he lost a fight against his school rival. He just wanted to get rid of it. If he could he would.

In seconds, the pile of clothes and rubbish became a pile of ash and more rubbish. He donned a fresh set of elegant green robes and left his room without a second glance back. The elves will clean up his mess. They will just assume that he was dabbling in Dark Magic again. He often created a mess just to gleefully watch them clean it up. One has to enjoy the small pleasures in life, after all. It irritated him that he had the freedom to buy anything he ever wanted, but not the freedom to put them where ever he wanted.

Later, down a few sets of stairs made for kings, and past some lavishly laid hallways created for Pharaohs, Draco magically opened the front door to greet his visitor. It is worth mentioning that the door was polished enough to be touched by emperors.

But nobody was there. All he saw was the beautiful front lawn, carefully tended by the gardeners, and the blindingly bright afternoon sky.

Draco turned to the doorbell next to him. "Legilimens," he whispered, but it was no use. He had been intentionally wandless since the Battle of Hogwarts. Wands were essentially your identity in the Wizarding world. He wanted to make sure he had the exact right one, even if he had to go without one for a while. As a child, he didn't have a choice but to go to some local wandmaker for a wand. Sure, the wandmaker was said to be the absolute best. But now that he was older, he wanted to create his own. And it was going to be perfect.

"Grandfather?" Draco tentatively asked the still afternoon air. A few birds in the distance chirped merrily but nobody else answered him. Draco's grandfather was dead. He knew that. But sometimes his grandfather's ghost would snoop and play tricks on them if he had nothing else to entertain himself with. Even though his grandfather's ghost did not answer him, Draco already knew it was not around.

Draco walked outside, on the sparkling pavement that covered the lawn in the form of a cobweb. It was a lovely day outside. He couldn't deny that. In the daylight, his front yard resembled a cousin to the Garden of Eden, with flowers and vines sprawled everywhere, both wild and perfectly placed. The peacocks all took shelter under a neat tree, so perfect that it could have been made of plastic. The bushes of yew still seemed moist from the morning dew. The dogs were nowhere to be seen.

The statues of unicorns danced quietly by the fountain. At first, their movements appeared spontaneous. However, Draco knew from past closer inspections that the stone unicorns all followed the same uniformly patterned dance moves. Even if someone interrupted them, they created a new repetitive dance move around the interruption. His front yard only wanted the illusion of chaos; it would never tolerate chaos itself.

Something seemed off somehow. Glancing around, Draco spotted a hooded figure sitting at his gazebo, reading a newspaper on the marble table and sitting on the stone bench. Draco just stood there watching for a minute. Then he foolishly reminded himself that it was his house, his yard, and there was nothing to be cautious of. Nevertheless, he took his time walking up a pathway in the pavement, ready to attack or flee if given reason, until he realized he standing directly across from the mystery person. The person greeted him by gripping the rim of his or her hood, and pulling it down.

Draco found himself sitting across from a pretty, tall brunette with green eyes. He didn't regret anything more than now how he could not slow down time. He would have appreciated watching her free her lustrous hair from the hood in slow motion.

"Daphne?" Draco asked in mild, bored surprise. Daphne Greengrass was a Slytherin girl in Draco's year at Hogwarts. She was best known for being likable and friendly, compared to the rest of the Slytherins anyway. Daphne had stopped speaking to Draco after he ended his relationship with Pansy that previous year. It had finally ended for good this time. He must have attempted ending it a hundred times since he and Pansy first got together for the Yule Ball in his forth year. It was a tough battle, but finally he was free.

It was an epiphany, like a moth, suddenly realizing that being on fire is bad.

Daphne's soft green eyes flicked up from her newspaper and hesitated, "Oh... er..."

"It's nice to see you," Draco said as he shifted to sit on the bench in front of her. He wanted to shake her hand, but decided at the last minute that it would be too formal.

"I'm not-"

"It's okay," Draco interrupted. She paused awkwardly, and he took this as his cue to continue, "We don't have to – you know- pretend to be friends or whatever. I know how you are with Pansy. She's your best friend, and I... I get it."

Daphne frowned at him in bewilderment, "Actually," she handed him the newspaper, "I'm not Daphne."

Draco didn't say anything. He was speechless. He opened his mouth, held it there, and the closed it again. But his inability to make a sound wasn't because of her pronouncement or any sort of identity crisis. His eyes were fixed downward to the newspaper. Daphne watched him read the headline of the paper, picked it up, and read the headline again. Then he faced her, and his expression seemed to suggest that her dog took a dump on on his brand new rug.

"What is this?" He demanded, throwing it in her face. The paper fluttered away. It flipped in the air a few times before it landed on the ground with the headline facing up.

"It's the outline of tomorrow's paper."

For the first time, Draco checked the date. Yes, the Daily Prophet was dated August first. Draco remembered the paper he burned earlier that morning was dated the end of July, "What? How did you get it, then, if it hasn't been printed yet?"

"I was looking for something else," Daphne explained, "Look... I am not Daphne."

"You're not Daphne?" Draco checked her facial features once again. She had big green eyes with long eyelashes, and nicely full lips on a heart-shaped face. Normally Daphne would paint those lips with some sort of bright shade of lipstick. Now they were naked. But the rest of her features certainly resembled Daphne. There were only a limited selection of attractive girls in the Slytherin House. It was unlikely for Draco to mistake her for someone else. He asked, "Does Daphne have a sister?"

The Daphne-look-alike shrugged, "Yes, actually. But I'm not her sister either."

Draco placed a hand on his chin, beholding her pretentiously as a connoisseur would behold a painting. He guessed, "Her cousin, maybe?"

"No,"

Draco smiled. He had a good guess, but he didn't want to reveal it, "Who are you?"

The imposter looked around the grounds for any signs of being overhead. Draco knew the likeliness of that was rather high, but he kept quiet. There was no need to worry her unnecessarily. The pretender leaned closer, with both hands on the table, and barely spoke:

"I am Theodore Nott."

Draco laughed, secretly glad that he didn't wager his guess, which would have been Pansy Parkinson. He smirked, "Nott? You're mad. Is that really you?"

The irony was real. Daphne Greengrass was replaced by her opposite. Daphne was the kind of person who hosted parties and invited all of her friends together at events. Everyone would laugh and make merry, and Daphne would always send them home with gift baskets in hand and smiles on their faces. Theodore, on the other hand, was the kind of person who trashed every single invitation and attempt to befriend him anywhere. It got to the point where nobody ever bothered to try to be his friend anymore. In fact, when he hears about the death of his classmate Vincent Crabbe, he would probably be thankful that there was one less person on the Earth to breathe his air.

Theodore and his father Eugene had only visited Draco's house twice before, once in the summer before his second year at Hogwarts, and once more in his forth. It was all business of course. Theodore never came over to be friendly. If Theodore wasn't currently acting as the bearer of bad news, Draco would have been delighted to see Theodore making another appearance, as a girl no less. It was ridiculous.

"Stop laughing at me like that. I'm just borrowing Daphne's hair for the day. I had something else I was doing but when I heard about this - " The person who looked like Daphne gestured to the paper, "- I decided to repay my debt. Remember? Last year, I owed you one."

"Oh... right, right," Draco said in a bored tone, "I forgot," It was the truth. Draco barely recalled that incident last year. It was hardly anything really. If Theodore had neglected to remind him of it, he would have completely forgotten Theodore owed him one.

It was during the summer after Draco had first heard about the wedding between the Weasley family and a Veela. Naturally, Draco and his family disapproved of anything the Weasleys did, especially interbreeding with a non-human species. That was basically bestiality. The disapproval was so obvious it was tangible. However, he was sure he wasn't alone in being secretly impressed with how the oldest son managed to snag Fleur Delacour. There were no words in Other men would leave their brides at the altar for such a position.

During that night, it was Draco's turn to keep watch over a certain room in the Ministry of Magic. They kept a record of Muggle-borns in a room at the Ministry. Before the Dark Lord's reign, it had only been for basic record-keeping. But when he came to power, the Death Eaters used it to filter out the unwanted. They had to have someone keep watch, so that the list wasn't tampered with by people who wanted their friends off the list. Draco wasn't clear on all the details. His father avoided his questions.

Draco didn't mind the job too much, honestly. He had a certain curiosity, that was perhaps trained into him while growing up, about people's lineage. That room contained more than just a record of Muggle-borns. It also traced virtually everyone's family line since the founders of the Ministry of Magic were still alive. Usually, he just spent hours tracing family trees.

Before his watch began, Draco was approached by a fox Patronus. It seemed odd, but not harmful. It repeatedly came up to him and walked away, looking back at him, only to come up to him again and repeat the process. Finally, Draco followed the mysterious Patronus, half-expecting to get killed for being so foolish. There was a war going on in the Wizarding World at the time. Such actions could be deadly.

The Patronus led him to a bar, where he met his classmate Theodore Nott. They exchanged greetings and Draco admired Theodore's Patronus. Theodore remarked that it was how the Order of the Phoenix communicated among themselves. Draco challenged him to cite his references, but Theodore said no more on the subject.

Theodore bought him a drink at the bar. Draco held the drink for the duration of their small talk. Theodore insisted, but Draco refused to drink the shot Theodore bought him, citing nausea, a headache, and other lame excuses.

The truth was that, although his aunt Bellatrix taught him the very advanced Occlumency and Legilimency, it was his mother who taught him how to read people (without magic) by body language alone. Simply put, Theodore's body language indicated he was lying. Narcissa had also taught Draco how to charm people. So he could have, theoretically tricked Theodore into trusting him. But he'd never been very good at charming. He enjoyed taunting too much to resort to fake pleasantries.

Draco knew very well that Theodore had no true interest in befriend him. Theodore was a loner who never felt any need to join any gangs, including Draco's. Draco resented him a little bit for it. But for the first two or three years at Hogwarts, Draco never failed to stop inviting Theodore to his events. If he was honest to himself, Draco even admired Theodore a little for how he seemed to truly be apathetic to what anybody thought of him. Draco often claimed he didn't care about what anybody thought of him, but he always had resentment in his voice when he said it. With Theodore, his apathy was the real deal.

So when Theodore invited him to the bar as if they were always pals, Draco delightfully accepted but took it with a grain of salt. Then, when Theodore went so out of his way to actually make pleasant conversation and buy him a drink. Draco could not hide his suspicion.

"It has this flavor to it that I know you'd like, Draco."

"Oh cut it out."

"What?"

"What is this really about? You never want to hang out and now all of a sudden we're on first-name terms?"

"What's wrong with changing my mind?"

"C'mon, Nott. You're not fooling anyone. It's just not who you are. You don't hate me, I know. But you don't ever want to be around anybody because you love being alone too much. What do you really want? What's going on?"

"Ugh... I just... I was going to make up some lie, but I dunno. It seems pointless now,"

"Okay... Well..."

"I can't tell you, Malfoy."

"You can tell _me_."

"No, I can't,."

"Fine. Whatever. I have better places to be right now,"

"Wait! Don't leave. Don't leave. Just drink it will you?"

"Why should I? You know about my watch."

"Malfoy... I don't want to force you."

"Put down your wand. I'll do it. But first..."

"But first what?"

"Promise me it's not poisoned and nothing bad will happen to me?"

"I promise," and Theodore performed a poison-checking charm on the shot-glass to prove it, "I swear no harm will come to you. Go ahead."

"Sure,"

"Wha- did you just?"

"Just what?"

"Just drink the whole thing?"

"Why not? There was only a shot. It wasn't like I was chugging it down or anything,"

"Erm... "

"You said it wasn't poisoned,"

"Yes, but how do you know I was telling the truth?"

"I know you were telling the truth,"

"How?"

"I can see it in your eyes,"

"... Eyes?"

"You weren't lying. Don't worry about it."

"You have a lot of trust in me,"

"Don't kid yourself,"

They shared a few more drinks and small talk before it was time for Draco's watch. Both of them were surprised to find how easy it was to get along with someone they both thought never cared for anyone but himself. Draco told Theodore he was going home, a lie he didn't have to tell.

As promised, no harm came to Draco. He was even awake for his entire watch later that night. But that didn't mean the drink wasn't enchanted some other way. He was sure it was jinxed, but he didn't know how. Perhaps it was similar to a luck potion, maybe it changed how events happened, or possibly it skipped a measure in time.

"Is my father here now?" Present-time Theodore asked in a tone that should have been light and casual if not for the weight of the words it carried.

"Depends," Draco answered quickly without thinking. Eugene made it very clear he didn't want anyone – especially his son – knowing that he visited the Malfoys last night and was perhaps still there now. Draco looked around the grounds, as if checking for confirmation of his absence. Eugene probably moved on, but...

"No," Draco lied, giving Theodore a sideways look and hoping that Theodore would catch the truth. But what he saw required more than a glance.

In a matter of a minute, Daphne's Greengrass's features began to shift. Her pretty, round eyes sank into the skull to reveal eyes that were blue, sullen and bagged. Daphne's dark hair seemed to shoot into Theodore's skull to reclaim his usual shaggy black hair. The nose grew slightly bigger. The fingers retained the same girth, but gained length. The body itself seem to fold inward and grow taller. His bones jutted out. His face resembled the White Rabbit. Draco was now looking into the face of Theodore Nott, who merely shrugged.

"Why did you have Daphne's hair today?"

"I was helping her move,"

"Helping her move?"

"Yes, people do that, right?"

"Other people do that. But you? Why... you fancy her!"

"No, I don't,"

"That's a shame,"

"Why?"

"She fancies you,"

"No,"

"Yes,"

"Does she?"

"HA!"

"Does she?"

"Yes, forever ago. She likes the mysterious tall dark and handsome type,"

"Oh, I guess I'm in the clear then, considering I'm not mysterious, tall, dark, or handsome,"

"I never knew you were one to fall for the likes of a mere girl,"

"What is that supposed to mean? I don't like boys."

"I figured you didn't like anybody,"

"I guess I can see that,"

"What're you going to do about Daphne?"

"Nothing, I dunno."

"Just kiss her, when the mood is right. Girls love that."

"Ah... Isn't there a pond of some sort around here?"

"I see what you're doing. Don't change the topic,"

"I'm not... Is there?"

"Indeed..."

"I actually want to know,"

"It's just around the bend over there. Follow me,"

They left the gazebo with Draco in the lead. The gazebo was magically enchanted to remove all dust and debris from its surface. Even fingerprints weren't safe from its purge. It was a silent spell that was over in less than a minute. It was so discreet that even if wizards were watching, they wouldn't be able to tell where it began or ended.

After the gazebo was finished vanishing away all imperfections. All that remained was a copy of the Daily Prophet, dated August first. The ink on the paper was fresh, as if newly laid and ready to be besmirched. The headline read in wet, black letters:

DRACO MALFOY

The Youngest Death Eater

WANTED FOR TREASON

AND CRIMES AGAINST WIZARDRY

Underneath the headline was a picture of Draco, looking guilty as charged, in chains sitting in a chair in the center of the Ministry's judgment room. It was a picture from his first trail at the Ministry. He was apprehended, along with a bunch of Death Eaters, and offspring of Death Eaters, right after the Battle of Hogwarts. However, he was set free because they did not have any evidence of his wrongdoing. His parents got a pardon because of his mother's undeniable lie to Lord Voldemort, which everyone agreed saved them all.

The rest of the snippet continued to list all of the reasons Draco was currently wanted, after being let go. Apparently Draco was guilty on several accounts of alleged murder, attempted murder, countless uses of the Unforgivable Curses, and playing a hand in the death of the former Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. Most of all, it accused him of the death of Albus Dumbledore, the former headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The article warned the public that he was mad and dangerous. It hinted that Malfoy was already arrested at the Malfoy Manor that morning of the first of August. He would have been led, by handcuffs, straight to Azkaban after a swift trial.

At present, Draco wasn't being led anywhere. Actually, he was leading Theodore Nott to an unexpectedly remarkable yet ordinary pond in his Garden of Eden. Swans of pink, lilac, and blue floated away from them in riveting circular motions, as they approached. The surface was like a mirror of the heavens, barely rippling. Theodore and Draco stood at the edge, looking down.

"Is this real water?" Theodore bent down, letting his fingers grace the surface, which didn't move.

"For the most part, yes, although it's been heavily enchanted,"

"I see..."

From across the lake, the swans flapped out of the water, leaving a trail of ripples in their wake. The ripples died down in an unnaturally short amount of time. Theodore got to his feet. Draco watched him out of the corner of his eye.

"Something bothering you, Nott?"

"No... no..."

"Something...?"

"I said _no_."

"Okay," Draco shrugged apathetically. He tried.

"Well, a little is bothering me..."

"Okay,"

"The Ministry took me in for questioning earlier this morning,"

"Did they?"

"Yeah,"

"They asked you about me?"

"No, they asked me about my dad,"

"Eugene? What about him?"

"They wanted to know where he was, what he'd done,"

"Those cretins..."

"They wanted to use me to incriminate him,"

"Despicable. I hope you told them to eat your stinkin-"

"No, I didn't... But I should have..."

"What did you tell them?"

"I..."

"Pull yourself together. What did you say?"

"I... I told them everything!"

"And why... would you do that?"

"I couldn't help it. They forced the Veritaserum down my throat when I wouldn't cooperate. They had me chained to a chair. They began asking questions. Terrible... terrible questions I couldn't ignore nor pretend not to hear. They asked about my relationship with my dad, what he'd done, what he told me he'd done, what I saw for myself that he'd done..."

"It's okay. It's OKAY, Nott, for Merlin's sake. Did you tell them where he was?"

"How could I? I don't know where he is... But I told them he's probably here now."

"You what?"

"Lucius wouldn't be the first person he's run to. But Lucius always had connections and ways. No offense, Draco, but Lucius is an incredible liar. Lucius can get himself into any situation and come out the good guy, perfectly clean. It would be stupid NOT to pay Lucius a visit before he completely disappears undercover,"

"Yeah, that's Dad, alright. How long has Eugene been missing?"

"I haven't seen him since Christmas. That was before the … yeah, before He was defeated,"

"How do you know your father's not dead?"

"_Because_ if he was dead, I would've inherited his fortune instead of working myself into the ground to get by,"

"Wow, love much?"

"Ha ha,"

"So, you think he's here now?"

"I know him. After a couple months, he'd go to Lucius. He doesn't much like your father, however..."

"Understood,"

"I'm deadly positive he's here,"

"But-"

"But if I'm right... Then it is deadly. Now, thanks to me, the Ministry knows where he is..."

"Nott, this is bad,"

"He'll probably be sent to Azkaban because of me, or literally sentenced to death..."

"No, this is bigger than you,"

"I can't believe I hesitated to wipe my memory when they took me in. I seriously considered it, but I couldn't bring myself to let go of my memories. I just kept thinking, they're important, what if I'll need them later? Ugh, I can't believe I'm so _childish_."

"Forget it, Nott. Look, there's nothing you can do now to change the past, but-"

"I beg to differ."

"BUT you can help the others,"

"The others?"

"I'll explain in a minute. Do you remember where Daphne's house is?"

"Yes..."

"Is it in a secluded place, away from civilization?"

"Quite a ways away, certainly, so she can host her parties without disturbing her neighbors. Why do you ask?"

"I have a good feeling about that place. Let's go,"

With that, Draco and Theodore walked into the mirror-like pond, which seemed to swallow them whole, without a ripple.

There is an infinite number of ways to travel by magic, without a wand. As new trends come into fashion, the old ones become obsolete. Floo Powder had been a relatively new development in London. Ever since the invention of the Muggle fireplace, the Ministry at once started the Floo network, which was revolutionary in its own way. But Floo Powder is slowly on its way out the door, due to the fact that not every room in every home had a fireplace.

Portkeys, on the other hand, had an turbulent relationship with wizards. They were estimated to be first used during the caveman era, with various caveman tools, and they have come and gone as they pleased. No one has quite gotten the hang of the sick nauseating feeling that Portkeys delivered on every single use. The feeling was not unlike getting off of an upside-down roller coaster. It was thrilling, but a bit much for daily use. As Muggles hated waiting in traffic, wizards hated the feeling of getting off a rocket every time they used a Portkey. Also, it took a large amount of magic to create a Portkey.

As far as traveling without a wand, a lot of wizards take to the sky. Since Muggles have yet to invent mass-produced flying hovercrafts, flying has not yet threatened to become obsolete. Broomsticks were always a timeless means to travel in Europe. Magic carpets were popular in the Middle East. Magical beasts such as Thestrals were splendid in Africa, and of course the Asians loved their Dragons. Even so, there are more airplanes in the sky than ever before. Muggle technology was catching up to them, much sooner than wizards would like to admit. Their days of flying were numbered.

Traveling magically without a wand was never a problem. There are many ways to do it, sometimes even Muggles can do it. But they will all eventually fade with time. There is only one way that will have the same lifespan as the Earth. This method was rather exclusive, only magical beings can travel this way. That is, intuitively, traveling based on the basic indivisible elements of the Earth.

The elements were _not_ the four to five elements of water, air, earth and fire. The elements were also _not_ any of the elements of the periodic table. That leaves the concern of what elements could be considered basic elements of the Earth, if not those? The answer depends on what kind of magical being you are, but it always came down to the elements that you could not live without.

For humans, the elements of Elemental Travel are: Water, oxygen, sunlight, and human contact. (Food was special too, but not normally used for travel. Food remains to be the only element that cannot be conjured from nothing)

On the other side of Britain was a peaceful countryside, sitting along a river. The river ran usually in one direction. But today, it twirled itself into a knot and although it was a liquid, the knot pulled itself into the shape of a tall, slender young man with a stringy, shady companion. A second later, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott materialized from the water in human form and the water washed off of them and splashed, rejoining the river below. They breathed in deeply. The journey was similar to being submerged in water for a minute. It was longer, because they traveled all the way across Britain.

Casually, Draco and Theodore made their way up the riverbank. They didn't even check the waters for Grindylows, small horned creatures that lived at the bottom of lakes and rivers like these.

An old-fashioned house sat alongside a road that led infinitely to the west and infinitely to the east. Draco started up at it and was utterly unimpressed with the decor. If it weren't for the rotating tree in the front yard, the house looked like it was made by Muggles for Muggles. Nothing floated in midair. No laws of physics were disregarded in the making of the house. No magical creatures crawled anywhere. It was utterly depressing.

Draco thought Daphne Greengrass should have been ashamed of herself. This giant piece of nothing was her house? And she calls herself a witch!

Nonetheless, despite its abysmal exterior, Draco was sure that he just found their first safe haven.

Theodore finished the drying spell set on both of them as they now walked toward Daphne's front door. Politely, they rang the doorbell.

"So... Does Daphne know that you took her hair?" Draco studied the yellow and white paint of the house with undisguised disgust.

"Yes, she knows my situation. Although, you were the first to know about yours,"

"Lucky me,"

"You _are_ lucky. So what if you're London's Most Wanted right now? At least you've got a head start. When the paper will be published, they'll think they've got you, but they don't and they won't. Right now, that journalist Adam Smith hasn't even begun writing that Wanted ad yet,"

"Wait – he hasn't? How did you get-"

"Oh, hello Daphne!"

The real Daphne Greengrass stood at the door. If Pansy Parkinson looked like a pug, her best friend resembled a poodle. She was wearing a ruffled robe that resembled a deep green blouse, with bronze ribbons in her dark brown hair, which was teased up to fluff. Her lips, as expected, were painted with a metallic shade of pink.

"Hello Theodore," she extended a gloved hand. Theodore shook it without a word. She stretched her lips slightly in a kind smile and said, "How was your trip to Gringotts?"

"Oh," Theodore said after Draco nudged him, "Fine."

She raised her nicely trimmed eyebrow.

"The goblins knew I wasn't you, and they believed me when I show them my real ID,"

"Good," She stood back, with her eyes fixed on Theodore, "Come in, I'll put on some tea,"

She disappeared into another door, after she guided them into the living room. Draco laid back on a beige sofa and set his feet on the wooden coffee table, perfectly at home. Theodore used two fingers to shove Draco's feet off, "What's wrong with you? Show some respect."

Draco threw up his hands in mock defeat, looking around at the modest living room. The place had no other furniture other than the sofas and the coffee table, a clear indication of someone who just moved in. There was a non-magical plant in the corner, a ceiling fan, and lackluster wallpaper. The curtains were drawn back to let in the light, which was more than sufficient for their needs.

"You should have kissed it," Draco threw back his hair and put his expensive shoes back onto the coffee table. His arms rested on the comfortable beige sofa-chair. The table tipped over to accommodate the newfound pressure. One of the table legs was shorter than the others.

"Kissed what?" Theodore eyed Draco's polished black shoes with disdain. This time Theodore used both hands to throw Draco's feet off the table. The table righted itself in its original position. Draco nearly lost his balance on the chair, but resumed his relaxed posture, sans feet-on-the-table.

"Her hand, doofus,"

"What good would-"

"Too late, now you're forever just her pathetic friend who helps her _move_. I know better ways to do it, you know,"

"Get out,"

"Hm, that might be a good suggestion, considering I wasn't exactly invited in,"

"What are you on about? She told us to come in,"

"She told _you_ to come in. Greengrass hasn't quite forgiven me for that situation with Pansy last year,"

"What situation?"

"Ask Greengrass about the latest gossip, since you two are girlfriends now,"

"Shut it, Malfoy,"

"Ha ha,"

Daphne reappeared in the room, carrying a tray of tea, "Ask me what?" She was looking toward Theodore, who blushed mildly. From behind her back, Draco winked at him and mouthed, "Watch this,"

Theodore rolled his eyes, bracing himself for Draco's newest invention, a clever turn-of-phrase that would woo even the coldest of hearts. His traveling companion taps her on the shoulder, to which she turned around to face him as if it pained her to do so. Theodore pursed his lips, skepticism oozing out of his pores.

"Daphne," Draco stood up humbly. If he had a hat, it would have been in his hands, "I'm sorry I made a mess of things last year. It was all my fault. Can you... could we still be friends?"

Theodore's neck stiffened. Draco's pronouncement was unexpectedly straightforward. At first it appeared to only anger her. But Theodore recognized the source of her frustration. It was like pulling a muscle before getting ready to punch someone who really deserved it. She still really, really wanted to hit Draco with her wittiest of comebacks. But at this point, anything cruel and sarcastic she would say would make her look like an unreasonable ex-wife who wouldn't let go of a grudge.

Amazingly, they shook hands. Clearly, Daphne tried to keep her friends around at all costs. She would often defend them even if she knew they were wrong. She tried to see the good in all her friends. In fact, if Millicent Bulstrode put on some lipstick, Daphne would even assume Millicent was actually female.

Inwardly, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Tension that filled the room since his arrival disappeared. Honestly, he didn't know if his fake apology would work, but he'd always managed to fool people when he needed to.

Daphne halfheartedly apologized for 'forgetting' Draco's cup of tea. She summoned a cup from the kitchen, and the teapot on the coffee table levitated and automatically poured itself for Draco. Daphne sat on the same couch as Theodore, at a polite distance away. He sat hunched forward, whereas Draco laid back in his sofa chair, and Daphne was sitting very straight up.

"The Ministry is doing plenty of reparations," Daphne started their conversation, before bringing her cup to her lips.

"What are you looking at me for?" Theodore held his arms, looking as though he had lived a million years.

"You should join in their effort,"

"Why, after-" His voice rose indignantly.

Daphne shot a quick glance at Draco, "Does he know?"

"Yes," Theodore sulked, "He knows,"

"They think you're going to try to help your father,"

"And they're damn well right. I can't just sit here while-"

"Theodore... listen to me," Daphne's tone was sharp, "You can't do anything for him now. Dissociate while you can. The best you can do for him is to publicly denounce him."

"Yeah, that'll happen," Draco smirked.

"What good would that do?" said Theodore.

"'What good would that do?' Are you serious? That will free _you_ from inquiry, and it will free _him_ from protecting you. They won't go after you if they think you disagreed with your father,"

A cloud passed over the window. It matched their mood, but it must have been the only cloud around for a hundred kilometers. Draco watched Theodore's shoulders shrink even further into himself. Draco's own shoulders were slackened into a position that betrayed no sympathy. But he knew how Theodore felt. Theodore was convinced, probably rightfully so, that he had landed his father in jail. It was worse than the time Potter sent both their fathers to Azkaban. He had no one to blame but himself.

"Daphne," said Draco, "Were your parents Death Eaters?"

"No, but they supported the Dark Lord," Daphne cited a common parenting situation among Slytherin students, "Also," she added, "My cousins were small-time Death Eaters,"

"'Small-time'? What, are we criminals or something? Death Eaters are just people who actually worked for the cause instead of sitting on your arse and waiting around for change to happen,"

"Okay, yeah, when the Dark Lord was still in power. But now? My cousins are just as good as criminals,"

"The fact that they're your cousins is probably why the Ministry hasn't gotten to you for questioning yet," Draco reasoned, "The relation is too far away,"

"No, actually this house isn't in the Wizarding records yet. Technically, I'm still registered under my old house,"

"Really, how did you manage that? Is it new or-"

"No, have you SEEN the woodwork? No, it's not a new house,"

"I see..."

"But it _was_ created by Muggles,"

"Oh, right. I meant to ask earlier. Daphne, have you ever heard of this thing called 'Magic'?"

"Magic?"

"It's all the rage nowadays, witches like you should get into it,"

"Oh, heh, I see what you did there. No, actually I prefer Muggle interior design. It's cute."

"It's... 'cute'?" Draco made two-finger hand gestures on that word.

"Muggle fashion too,"

"To be fair, the wizards hat and robe should have gone out of fashion a long time ago,"

"Exactly. It would be nice for women and men to wear pants _outside_ of their robes for once,"

"You think we should have been dividing our robes in half around the legs?"

"Why, yes,"

"That's absurd,"

"Oh, and wearing essentially the same bed sheet everyday since the dawn of all time is perfectly normal,"

"Sometimes I wore the same set of robes for five days straight and nobody noticed,"

"Oho, we noticed,"

"You know, I was just kidding,"

"I wasn't."

"Har har,"

Draco and Daphne continued dominating the conversation for the rest of the hour. To an outsider, it would have appeared as though Theodore was all but forgotten, but that could not be further from the truth. In reality, Theodore was more like the silent elephant in the room. Both Draco and Daphne were concocting ways to include the third wheel into the conversation, without forcing it. But they were hindered by the common knowledge that Theodore would personally prefer that their bicycle remain a bicycle.

"That's as dumb as Crabbe and Goyle!" Daphne was laughing at something Draco described. She choked and accidentally launched herself into a coughing fit after she realized what she just said. Draco was holding an empty cup in one hand, smiling wanly at her faux pas.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Daphne choked after her coughing fit, "I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," Draco set the empty cup on the table and leaned back, looking out of the window.

"Draco, I didn't mean to mention..." She trailed off, not wanting to mention it again.

Theodore narrowed his eyes, watching Draco. Daphne was wringing her hands nervously. There was their first awkward moment of silence before Draco spoke again:

"Crabbe was never truly my friend,"

Draco watched both Daphne and Theodore exchange looks with each other before guiding their full attention back to Draco. They thought they were watching something that was so painfully obvious to the rest of them become apparent for the first time to Draco. He had always treated Crabbe and Goyle like dirt, like lower than dirt, like worms that weren't even worthy of eating dirt. Daphne and Theodore must have wondered how could he _not_ see that they were not truly his friends?

Draco knew all that.

"What happened to him?" Daphne asked with masked sympathy. She was the gossip queen, and if she didn't know something, nobody did. Nobody in their year knew what happened to Crabbe. For all they knew, Vincent Crabbe ran off to work in a farm of rainbows somewhere.

"He died," Draco said frankly, confirming their suspicions. They straightened up, getting ready to sympathize. He shrugged.

"Where is his body?"

"It's gone,"

"Oh... Does his dad know?"

"Yes,"

"That's... brave of you," Theodore spoke for the first time, surprise etched in tired face, "Nestor Crabbe is one of the most brutish, illogical men I've ever had the misfortune to meet. He's violent. He wouldn't hesitate to hit a child, even if it wasn't his kid, if you get what I mean. If you told him his son was dead. He would blame you. Then he would kill you. How did you-"

"I know how he is – geez," Draco said, shaking his head, "I wasn't the one to tell him,"

He smirked, "I told Goyle to do it," and all three of them laughed.

"So... Is he gone for good then?" Daphne pressed, "You actually saw him die?"

"Certainly,"

"You can see Thestrals now?" Daphne said with a sideways glance at Theodore. It had been a well-known fact that, for the longest time, Theodore was the only Slytherin of their year who could see Thestrals. It wasn't exactly a touchy subject, since he told them his mother died before he could remember her. And unlike Potter, Theodore allegedly could not yearn for someone he never knew.

But Daphne still tried not to bring it up.

"Well..." Draco drawled lazily. He didn't want to mention Dumbledore. "Yes,"

Theodore leaned toward Draco, intentionally catching his eye, "Could Crabbe still be alive?"

"You mean, did he cut up his soul?" Draco chuckled, guessing exactly at Theodore's thoughts.

"What? Don't be silly, you can't divide a soul," Daphne laughed.

"No," Draco pretended to agree, "That's giving him way too much credit,"

Draco could tell that Theodore was not convinced. Theodore strongly believed that they had been underestimating Crabbe's anger for years. Considering how Crabbe died, Theodore wasn't entirely wrong. Crabbe was more powerful than they ever imagined. He was not as dumb or weak as they thought. But he was an animal. The idea of Crabbe coming up with the plan to split his soul to live on? Crabbe had enough evil to do it, but not enough genius. He needed both, to try something like that. It was ludicrous.

Draco had figured out Horcruxes, without knowing the official name, initially when he ran into Saint Potter destroying a seemingly useless piece of junk in the Room of Hidden Things. Potter had treated the diadem like it was a matter of life or death. Everyone and their pet fish knew what Potter was up to, that he was the 'Chosen One', the hero meant to destroy the Dark Lord, twice and for all. If he wanted to destroy something so bad, it had to be something very valuable to the Dark Lord.

In the final confrontation with the Dark Lord, Potter had explained everything and confirmed Draco's suspicions about Horcruxes. On the other hand, Theodore's surface thoughts revealed that he had somehow learned about this dangerous method of immortality on his own.

"Harry Potter came back," Draco said suddenly, voicing a mystery he had subconsciously been trying to solve.

"I'm sorry, what?" Daphne raised an eyebrow.

"Potter died. Then he came back,"

"You say that like you just learned that we had to go back to Hogwarts for another year,"

"Erm... I don't hate that kid. But if he added 'dead' to his list of character traits, it would be my favorite thing about him,"

"Ha, that sounds a little ungrateful. They've been acting like you owe them one, ever since the Battle of Hogwarts,"

"It's kind of true... It's embarrassing. I just secretly wish he'd've managed to stay dead. He had a lot of opportunities,"

"How do you know he died?"

"My mother saw it. The Dark Lord performed the Killing Curse on him."

"I thought the official story was that it just didn't work,"

"No," Draco insisted, "It worked. He's killed tons of people. Trust me, He knows how to kill. He killed Potter. But Potter came back."

"Wouldn't take it lying down, eh?"

"Ha, yeah."

"So, Malfoy, since you're so clever..." Daphne smirked and crossed her legs, "How do you think Potter did it?"

"According to Potter, he chose to die. So the Elder Wand let him do it. It also let him come back," Draco was just repeating what Potter told the Dark Lord when he confronted Him.

"That works," Theodore absentmindedly weaved his wand in his hands, "But that's only once. Potter has done it twice,"

"It's quite remarkable, honestly," Daphne shrugged, "I'm impressed,"

Theodore and Draco said nothing to that. Draco couldn't speak for Theodore, but he highly disagreed. As far as he was concerned, Potter was a talentless fool who only got lucky. There was nothing that separated him from any other schmuck who might have happened upon the Elder Wand. Then again, perhaps Draco was a little bitter, knowing how close he came to truly mastering the Elder Wand.

"How did Potter do survive the first time?" Daphne asked the still air.

A frog croaked loudly from the distant riverbank. They had long since finished their tea. Yet Daphne's teapot continued to steam. It contained an infinite amount of fresh tea. The only thing that changed was the flavor. The spell would continue to work until the teapot was broken.

"Dumbledore said it was his mother's love that saved him," said Draco finally.

"Bullshit," said Theodore.

"I thought so too. If that worked for him, why didn't everyone who had a mother who loved them – why didn't literally EVERYONE – survive the First War? It didn't save that Weasley twin, and it sure didn't continue to protect Potter while he continued to live."

"It's something else," Theodore said hungrily.

"It's something more," Draco agreed.

"Wait," said Daphne, "When did you talk to Dumbledore about this?"

"He offered to help me, that year that I was supposed to kill him. At the time, I thought he was trying to convince me not to kill him. But... well..."

"But?"

"But now it's clear that he knew I wasn't going to do it,"

"Oh, so you didn't do it?"

"No, I didn't,"

"Who did?"

"Snape killed Dumbledore,"

Draco averted his eyes. It was odd to him, how little everyone knew about Dumbledore's death. He didn't want to mention Dumbledore's will. It was already quite astounding that Dumbledore even bothered to include such a random student in his will, much less a student who never missed an opportunity to vilify his headmaster. Yet the old man was a bleeding heart. Perhaps he gave every Hogwarts student a piece of his will, even the ones who planned to murder him.

The gift Dumbledore chose to posthumously bestow on Draco served to ingrain his guilt deeper into his conscience. Dumbledore left him a shard of glass, with a note:

_When in doubt, follow your heart._

Draco never truly knew what his heart wanted. Sometimes he wanted power, to rule over the masses... belief in a higher being, so that he would at least have _someone_ to blame... fame, to live longer... immortality, to literally live longer... women, lots of the beautiful kind... or even an abundance of money, money of his own that he could spend without asking permission... Sometimes he just wanted the ability to decorate his own room or keep it in a permanent state of natural chaos. How could Dumbledore put so much ruthless faith into his indecisive, ever-changing unreliable heart? Dumbledore was a fool.

Draco leaned forward, coming out of the maze of own thoughts. He gripped the handle of the teapot with one hand and lifted it, tipping its spout over the short table leg. He used his other hand to guide the motion of the scalding hot tea as it splashed over the side of the table, down the short table leg.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa! What are you doing?"

Draco muttered an incantation and a flash of light illuminated the flowing spilled tea. The short table leg glowed, and seemed to take the shape of its liquid covering. A second later, Daphne was shocked to see a longer table leg where the short one had been, and that all four of her table legs were now at identical heights and shapes. There was no spilled tea to be had. It disappeared.

"Wow, Draco, where'd you learn something like that?" Daphne whispered.

"I don't even think about it any more,"

"You didn't even use a wand,"

"You don't need to use a wand, the table was already wood. I just needed something with magical properties, namely your tea."

"You can fix furniture?"

"I spent practically a year learning how to fix furniture. I learned what worked, what didn't work, which spelled contradicted other spells. Which charms can only be performed at a certain time under a certain condition or else..."

"You mean... when you were working for You-Know-Who..."

"I can almost make my own wand now. I learned a bit about it from Ollivander," to which Draco silently added, "who was being held prisoner in the secret room under the drawing room,"

"What was it like, working for Him?"

"Oh, Him?" Draco raised his eyebrow and sighed loudly, "It was _awful_, just awful. The continuous dead Muggles on our dining room table – we are supposed to EAT on that table, for Merlin's sake – the staying-up-all-night... Gosh, the Dark Lord stayed with us for most of last year and he was just the absolute _worst roommate_ I have ever had. And BELIEVE me when I say that you do not want to be in the same room with Goyle when he takes his socks off. Phew!"

Even Theodore cracked up. Daphne ordered her teapot to pour them another round of tea, and Draco continued:

"Seriously though... The Dark Lord never showers, never sleeps, but He _does_ eat and, you know, uses the bathroom, and breathes, and stuff. Isn't that the damnedest thing? He's actually alive, living and breathing and everything! But He NEVER does the dishes or cleans up after himself... I know, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, what does it matter that He doesn't do the dishes? The house-elves can do them! Well here's the thing about that..." Draco leaned forward.

"Ever since my Aunt Bellatrix moved in, she started being really annoying to my house-elves, and I mean the nails-on-a-chalkboard kind of annoying. She tortured one until he could no longer walk or talk, let alone scrub dishes. I got so infuriated with her that I freed the rest of them out of spite, at least temporarily until the War was over. So that's why we had no house-elves for the entire time that the Dark Lord stayed with us."

Both Theodore and Daphne were leaning forward now. Fueled by their fire, Draco continued: "The house-elves came back after the War, of course. They love it at my house. Mum – I mean my mother – always likes to throw extravagant parties, so there's always something for them to do."

"But working for the Dark Lord was no walk down Diagon Alley. He wanted me to kill our headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. You heard? Yes. I wasn't really in the killing mood, if you get what I mean. I distracted myself throughout the year. I found a way to get the other Death Eaters into Hogwarts. So I devoted most of my time to fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, the portal between Hogwarts and Borgin's shop."

"That's when I learned more about magic than I had ever learned in all of my schooling at Hogwarts. I learned the different types of wood, the different types of materials, what things had magical powers... Did you know that wands were just pieces of wood that we channel our energy into? We already have it inside us – the wands just make it easier to focus our magic and tap into our power. I found that enchanting Muggle furniture, or Wizarding furniture, stripped of all prior enchantments, was the easiest to work with."

"To be frank, Muggles have advanced beyond wizards. I heard that they have literally gone to the moon and back. The sad part is that Wizards are smarter, stronger, and more powerful than Muggle could ever imagine."

"But they're holding us back. There are more of them than us. If they found out who we were, evolved versions of themselves, then they'd think we were freaks and there wold be mass panic. So, wizards are forced, by law, to go into hiding."

"That might have been practical back when my grandfather Abraxas was still alive. There were only one or two wizards to each country and it was practical to remain in hiding, as the very small minority. But now? Now there are at least one or two wizards to each village, and growing, at an exponential rate. The old way is outdated. We need to update our bible. It is time for change."

"Because we're underground, and there are so few of us that actually go to school, we haven't been able to grow, develop, or work together internationally to further our knowledge and magical inventions. Very few people in the Ministry can form a simple Shield charm."

"The Wizarding world works together in developing new magical spells like a field of open-source monkeys work together, with all the knowledge and information in the world, but no sense of organization. We can't properly communicate without disturbing Muggles."

" Our education is atrocious. But our power? It knows no bounds. If we improved on the Bubble-head charm, we could go to Jupiter by tomorrow. We can travel all the way across the Earth in the blink of a second. Hell, we can literally topple mountains, fill in valleys, cross universes, and _break_ the all the laws of physics if we wanted to. But no, we have to pretend we're useless at all that because _otherwise the Muggles will find out_ and all of our infinite sources of power will get tossed in the recycle bin."

"I propose we come out of hiding, cause panic if need be. We have to end this oppression. We have to tell them who we are. The truth is that we're just like them, but BETTER. And it's about time they acknowledge it too."

"Draco," Daphne interrupted, "What are you saying?"

Draco took a breath, and smirked at both of them, saying:

"We can rule the Muggle World, just by telling them that we exist,"

He watched Daphne and Theodore mull it over. The gears in Theodore's head seemed to turn over and over before clicking into place, whereas the gears in Daphne's head seemed to spin endlessly in one spot. Theodore nodded and Daphne imitated him.

"That's a grand idea, Malfoy," said Theodore, "Let me know how that pans out,"

"Bugger, you're such a killjoy,"

"Perhaps," and Theodore stood up, stretching, "It's a nice place you've got here,"

"I love my little house," Daphne beamed, "I can host all the parties I want without any trace of interruptions,"

"Is it okay if people sleep over?" Draco asked

"Of course!"

"Can I?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah – tonight,"

"Sure! Theodore, you too?"

Theodore jolted as if awakened. He shook his head, quickly, as if they were accusing him of watching midget goblin porn. Draco shook his head in exasperation. Theodore headed to the door then, and made to bid them farewell.

Daphne graciously thanked him and gave him a hug, which he uncomfortably returned.

"Before you go..." Draco said quietly, "Daphne probably has a spare key to give you, in case you change your mind. Don't you, Daphne?"

Daphne perked up at the idea, "Yes, it's upstairs,"

"It won't be necessary,"

"She insists. Don't you, Daphne? You insist?"

"Yes, I insist,"

"No, it's okay, really..."

"I insist you wait here while I go get it upstairs,"

"Er..."

Draco and Theodore were left at the bottom of the stairs. Draco was looking smug and Theodore looked somewhat violated. Giving Theodore a key would go as unappreciated as giving a mermaid some new designer shoes. They didn't meet each others' eyes or say anything. Daphne was back a split second later.

She took his hand and placed the key into it, an ordinary silver house key. Then she kissed him on the cheek and shoved him out the door. She quickly closed the door, spun around, and leaned on it, looking breathless.

Draco chuckled. He couldn't see through doors, but he knew Theodore was standing frozen on the other side, in shock. He doubted any girl had ever thought to kiss Theodore before.

Daphne left the hallway, with a hand on her chest, slowly fanning herself, "What if he doesn't come back?"

"Oh, he will," Draco followed her, silently adding to himself, "especially with that kiss,"

"So, shall I show you to your room?"

"Sure,"

As they ascended the stairs, a young witch with dark brown hair, cut above her ears, and fishnet robes appeared at the top of the staircase. Her green eyes were inflamed, "What did you do with my keys?"

"Relax, I'll get you another copy," said Daphne. As they drew even, Draco saw they were the same height, with similar facial features, except Daphne had more curves and the other girl had a sharper face. He stood between them, amused. Then he remembered that Daphne had a sister.

"Fine," said Daphne's sister, "I'll be waiting," and she turned to a door on the left. Before she entered, she said, "What is he doing here? He should be in jail," and slammed the door to her room. An uneasy feeling made its way up Draco's spine. How could she have known?

"Don't mind her. She's only staying with me because she doesn't get along with our parents."

Then Daphne led him to an ordinary room with an ordinary bed and an ordinary window facing the river. She excused herself to shower. Draco was left looking out the window. He saw Theodore down at the riverbank. Theodore had his wand drawn, pointing at the river. No doubt, he was getting ready to leave.

As unreasonable as it was, Draco Malfoy had nothing but goodwill toward Theodore Nott, who he saw as the friend he never had.


End file.
